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The  Arts  Monographs 


WILLIAM  GLACKENS 


The  Arts 
Monographs 


Georges  Seurat 

by  Walter  Pach 

William  Glackens 

by  Forbes  Watson 


Aikens 

by  Bryson  Burroughs 


Arthur  B.  Davies 

by  Forbes  Watson 

Toulouse-Lautrec 

by  Alexander  Brook 


The  Arts  Monojo^raphs 


WILLIAM  GLACKENS 

BY 

FORBES  WATSON 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  AND  COMPANY 


THE  ARTS 
1923 


Copyright,  1923,  by 
DUFFIELD  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


FOREWORD 


The  object  of  The  Arts  Monographs  is  to  present  in  workable, 
concise,  but  fnlly-illiistrated  form,  a series  of  small  books  on  various 
artists  and  subjects  of  art  which  shall  not  be  too  expensive  for  gen- 
eral circulation  and  which,  in  text  and  illustration,  shall  stimulate 
the  interest  of  the  lay  reader  while  at  the  same  time  serving  the 
purposes  of  the  more  special  student. 


Forbes  Watson,  Editor. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Drawing  {Collection  of  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin). 

Ernest  Lawson  (Lithograph)  {Collection  of  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin). 
Etching  with  Color  {Collection  of  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin). 

Race  Horses  {Collection  of  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin) . 

At  Mouquin’s. 

The  Luxembourg  Gardens. 

Portrait  Group. 

The  Race  Track  {The  Barnes  Foundation) . 

Bathers  {The  Barnes  Foundation). 

Portrait  {The  Barnes  Foundation)) . 

Girl  Pinning  on  Hat  {The  Barnes  Foundation) . 

The  Raft  {The  Barnes  Foundation). 

Nude. 

The  Artist’s  Daughter. 

Young  Girl  (The  Barnes  Foundation). 

Outdoor  Restaurant. 

Walter  Hampden. 

Flowers. 


WILLIAM  GLACKENS 


WILLIAM  GLACKENS 
By  Forbes  Watson 

ILLIAM  GLACKENS  was  born  in  Philadelphia,  March  13th, 
1870,  He  was  educated  at  the  public  schools  and  gradu- 
ated from  the  Central  High  School.  In  1891  he  joined  the  staff 
of  the  PJiiladelphia  Record  as  an  artist.  In  1892  he  went  to  the 
Philadelphia  Press  and  later  to  the  Ledger  and  then  back  again  to 
tbe  Press. 

Meanwhile  intermittently  he  studied  at  the  Pennsylvania  Acad- 
emy of  Fine  Arts.  Finally  in  1895  and  1896  he  made  the  usual 
American  artist's  pilgrimage  to  Paris  where  he  rented  a studio  and 
worked  but  he  did  not  go  to  any  of  the  schools.  In  the  winter  of  1896 
he  returned  to  America.  At  that  time  George  B,  Luks  was  the 
“premier  humorist  artist”  for  the  ISew  York  World  and  through  him 
Glackens  succeeded  in  getting  an  assignment  to  do  comic  drawings 
for  the  World's  Sunday  supplement.  This  was  Glackens’  hrst  job  in 
New  York.  He  left  it  to  become  a sketch  artist  on  the  ISew  York 
Herald.  Harry  Dart  was  then  head  of  the  Herald  staff  and  Ernest 

<3  11  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


Fall!'  and  Glackens  did  most  of  the  sketching  assignments  during  the 
year  that  Glackens  was  on  the  Herald. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Glackens  began  to  work  for  the  maga- 
zines, McClure’s  in  particular.  He  was  sent  to  Northwest  Wiscon- 
sin to  make  drawings  of  a log  drive  to  illustrate  an  article  by  Ray 
Stannard  Baker.  Returning  from  there  he  again  worked  for  a time 
on  the  Sunday  World.  But  upon  the  outbreak  of  the  Spanish  war 
he  was  sent  by  McClure’s  to  Florida  with  instructions  to  go  to  Cuba 
as  quickly  as  possible  and  annex  himself  to  Garcia’s  army.  His 
drawings  were  to  be  sent  back  as  opportunity  offered.  Fortunately 
his  instructions  were  cancelled  when  it  was  found  that  the  United 
States  Army  was  going  to  move  that  summer.  And  Glackens  accom- 
panied the  army  together  with  a vast  number  of  other  correspondents 
who  were  dumped  into  Cuba  to  shift  for  themselves.  He  went 
through  the  campaign  and  returned  to  America  with  a not  too  bad 
attack  of  malaria.  Again  he  took  up  magazine  work,  especially  for 
Scribner  s,  and  he  also  began  drawing  for  the  Saturday  Evening  Post. 

He  became  a member  of  The  Society  of  American  Artists  and 
wlien  they  were  absorbed  by  the  National  Academy  he  became 
automatically  an  Associate  Academician.  He  has  been  a member  of 
many  art  associations — too  many  he  says.  He  has  always  had  a 
horror  of  oflicial  ])ositions  hut  somehow  he  became  president  of  the 
Iiide|)endent  and  served  one  term.  In  1903  at  Hartford,  Connecti- 
cut, he  married  Edith  Dimock. 

<3  12  O 


WILLIAM 


G L A C K E N S 


The  present  position  occupied  by  William  Glackens  as  an  artist 
may  be  described  by  the  word  solitary — a word  by  the  way  that 
describes  the  position  of  more  than  one  artist,  if  not  of  all.  For  a 
youtbfnl  period  artists  may  flock  in  schools,  groii])S,  crowds,  gangs, 
and  by  concerted  action  draw  public  attention  to  themselves  as  a 
group.  Gradually  the  school  disintegrates,  the  movement  subsides, 
the  crowd  thins,  the  noise  of  organized  publicity  diminishes,  and 
standing  alone,  one  or  two  artists  are  left  from  each  little  crowd  to  go 
their  separate  ways  and  work  out  their  individual  salvations. 

Mediocrities  can  organize,  play  politics,  seize  upon  the  best  com- 
mercial leads,  obtain  the  best  galleries,  secure  official  plums  and 
direct  the  policies  of  public  artistic  undertakings.  For  mediocrities, 
being  bored  by  tbe  actual  practice  of  their  profession,  are  glad  to 
enjoy  tbe  temporary  excitement  of  a plot  or  plan  of  organization. 
But  tbe  artist,  in  the  truer  sense  of  tbe  term  stands  alone,  and  alone  be 
must  find  his  way.  To  understand  why  an  artist  like  Glackens  with 
a wide  reputation,  in  tbe  fulness  of  his  maturity,  should  occupy  a 
position  apart,  a brief  sketch  of  certain  American  conditions  is 
necessary. 

Once  and  once  only  tbe  American  artists  organized  on  a national 
scale  and  that  was  in  1913  under  tbe  autocratic  guidance  of  Arthur 
B.  Davies,  Walt  Kuhn  and  a few  others.  Tbe  course  of  American 
art  was  changed  by  a single  tremendous  stroke.  For  tbe  first  time  tbe 
outsiders  were  made  to  realize  what  tbe  insiders  always  knew — ^tbat 

<3  13  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


frock-coated  art  only  wears  a frock-coat  to  hide  the  fact  that  it  isn’t 
art.  But  the  big  stroke  has  not  been  repeated,  and  the  academies 
that  trembled  momentarily  on  their  foundations  have  settled  back 
into  something  like  their  old  positions.  Of  course  things  are  not  as 
they  were  and  never  can  be,  which  may  he  enough  to  be  thankful  for, 
yet  today,  ten  years  after  the  Armory  exhibition,  we  find  the  only 
other  large  permanent  exhibition  galleries  in  New  York  in  the  grip  of 
the  officials. 

The  officials  occupy  most  of  the  seats  in  the  juries  of  the  important 
museum  exhibitions  throughout  the  country,  and  the  regular  trav- 
elling exhibitions  for  domestic  consumption  are  almost  entirely  made 
up  of  the  works  of  the  manufacturers  who  belong  to  the  “big  club.” 
In  a word  the  presentation  of  contemporary  American  art  through- 
out the  country  is  largely  controlled  by  a conventional  frock-coated 
spirit  which  .has  outlived  the  frock-coat  itself.  Here  and  there  a 
bright  spot  like  The  Arts  Club  of  Chicago  is  willing  to  risk  one  eye. 

While  the  officials,  showing  a solid  front,  occupy  the  main  metro- 
politan fortresses  of  salesmanship  and  display,  and  the  corresponding 
vantage  points  througliout  the  country,  the  attacking  forces  show  no 
leadership,  no  generous  spirit,  no  breadth  of  view.  Taking  the  ac- 
tivities of  organized  elliciency  as  the  recompense  of  mediocrity  and  as 
a matler  of  course  which  is  proved  by  historical  precedents  in  many 
countries,  they  separate  into  small  groups  and  attack  each  other. 
I'liey  fonn  little  academies  of  their  own,  more  narrow  in  scope  than 

<3  14  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


the  ordinary  academy.  They  indulge  in  grotesque  errors  of  judg- 
ment. They  make  no  distinction  between  artists  and  manufacturers. 
The  line  of  distinction  is  the  line  between  their  little  gang  and  the 
outside  world,  and  they  are  more  united  against  the  artists  outside  of 
their  little  gang  than  against  the  mere  politicians.  Their  organized 
publicity  grossly  exaggerates  the  value  of  their  own  limited  circle  and 
undermines,  not  the  big  obstacle,  which  is  the  effete  frock-coat,  but 
the  perfectly  genuine  artists  who  don’t  belong  to  their  little  club.  It 
is  one  big  club  on  one  side  and  on  the  other  a lot  of  little  clubs  just  as 
academic  in  spirit  as  the  big  club.  These  little  clubs  with  their  nar- 
row rules  about  what  is  modern  and  what  isn’t  may  sharpen  the 
members’  wits  by  their  frays.  Perhaps  the  artist  has  to  choose  be- 
tween the  soft  happiness  of  contented  and  industrious  manufacturing 
and  spasms  of  conflict  interspersed  with  solitude. 

The  story  is  too  long  to  complete,  but  these  are  a few  of  the 
aspects  of  the  professional  atmosphere  in  which  an  artist  of  the  caliber 
of  William  Glackens  hnds  himself  in  America  today.  On  the  one 
hand  he  is  not  fashionable  enough — the  merest  little  beginner  with 
a knack  at  imitating  Derain  is  more  fashionable — on  the  other  hand 
he  has  passed  far  beyond  decadent  impressionism  or  feeble  Sargent- 
ism  which  are  the  two  main  movements  within  the  academies.  He 
doesn’t  belong  among  the  officials,  and  he  is  not  young  enough  to 
enjoy  painting  for  theory’s  sake.  By  avocation  he  is  neither  a parlia- 
mentarian nor  a congressman  as  so  many  artists  are.  I have  never 
met  an  artist  who  so  consistently  fails  to  indulge  in  blah.  He  is,  I 

<3  15  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


repeat,  under  present  conditions,  a solitary,  too  purely  a painter  to  be 
honored  officially,  too  uncomplex  to  be  honored  by  the  up-to-the- 
niinute  cerebralists.  So  much  for  his  position. 

Matisse,  looking  at  a picture  in  a friend’s  house  said  to  his  friend : 
“You  ought  to  give  me  that  picture.” 

The  friend  smiled. 

“But  she  is  such  a beautiful  woman,  I could  love  her  so,”  said 
Matisse. 

Shades  of  Freud,  what  simplicity!  A senator  buying  an  Aston 
Knight  could  hardly  be  more  simple.  But  between  simplicity  and 
simplicity  what  a difference,  the  simple  echo  and  the  simple  feeling. 

The  summer  boarder  admires  the  sunset,  not  because  she  is  stirred 
and  love  of  life  moves  in  her,  but  because  she  wants  her  rocking 
neighbor  to  believe  that  she  has  a soul  above  the  afternoon’s  gossip. 
A senator  buys  a “pretty  bit”  not  because  he  is  moved  by  bad  painting 
but  because  he  isn’t  moved  by  good  painting.  Matisse  saw  a Renoir 
— it  was  a Renoir  that  he  asked  his  friend  to  give  him — and  said: 
“Wliat  a woman!”  Had  he  seen  a potboiler  of  the  same  subject  he 
prol)ably  would  have  said:  “What  a mess!”  Simplicities  are  dif- 

ferent after  all,  which  is  well  to  understand,  since  uncerebral  sim- 
])licity  is,  I imagine,  at  the  bottom  of  the  art  of  William  Glackens.  He 
loves  tlie  fascinating  little  daughter  of  his,  that  you  may  see  pictured 
in  tlie  reproduction  at  the  beginning  of  this  article.  He  loves  to  look 
at  lier.  The  next  step  is  to  paint  her.  He  is  delighted  by  the  crowd 

<3  16  O 


WILLIAM 


G L A C K E N S 


on  tlie  beach  at  Belport.  He  enjoys  the  scene.  Ergo  he  paints  it. 
He  is  not  trying  “to  save  the  republic”  to  prove  a theory,  to  illustrate 
hook-psychology. 

Talking  about  an  amateur  hook-psychologist  who  makes  the  mis- 
takes common  to  miickllecl  learning,  Glackens  gave  vent  to  the  sim])le 
exclamation:  “Psychology  from  hooks.  . . .”  The  phrase  trailed 

off  into  a sneer.  Glackens  doesn’t  get  it  out  of  hooks  and  tiy  to  paste 
it  incongruously  on  a canvas.  His  psychology  is  from  life.  He  has 
had  a long  training  looking  at  life.  And  when  what  he  sees  through 
his  eyes  gives  him  pleasure  it  is  natural  for  him  to  paint  his  im- 
pression. 


In  the  days  when  Glackens  worked  on  the  Philadelphia  news- 
papers there  were  no  photographic  supplements,  no  news  movies. 
The  artist  was  a reporter.  But  he  did  in  drawings  what  his  com- 
panion reporter  did  with  words.  He  told  the  story.  He  told  it  as 
best  he  could  with  whatever  aid  he  could  secure  in  the  quickest  time 
possible.  If  he  were  sent  to  the  coal  regions  to  report  a riot  of  the 
coal  workers,  well  there  was  no  time  to  he  lost — he  saw,  observed, 
took  notes.  And  then  coming  hack  from  the  coal  mines  in  a shaky 
train,  on  a rough  road,  with  the  car  swinging  hack  and  forth  and  u]) 
and  down,  he  scratched  away  as  best  he  could  under  the  adverse  cir- 
cumstances. Concentration  and  speed  counted. 

<3  17  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


Or  it  might  be  a murder,  a yacht  race,  a prize  fight,  a dead  person 
in  a coffin.  Not  that  the  dead  person  was  depicted  in  the  coffin.  But 
the  evidence  that  her  eyes  were  blacked  or  her  shoulder  broken,  or 
whatever  the  accident  might  be  was  there,  and  the  evidence  had  to  be 
noted  and  applied  to  the  living  image  of  the  dead. 

But  why  continue  with  these  details?  The  point  is  that  William 
Glackens  began  to  be  an  artist  not  in  a comfortable  school  where  there 
was  much  theorizing.  He  began  to  be  an  artist  in  the  school  of 
experience.  His  work  filled  a purpose  in  demand  by  a common  every- 
day  world.  All  the  time  that  he  worked  as  an  illustrating  reporter  he 
also  worked  at  painting,  always  wishing  to  be  a painter,  and  mean- 
while doing  something  that  had  to  fill  a demand,  that  had  to  be  useful 
and  desired  by  someone  willing  to  pay  for  it. 

And  this  is  a point  not  to  be  forgotten  in  thinking  of  the  work  or 
the  character  of  William  Glackens.  Or  at  least  that  is  my  belief.  If 
today  he  does  exactly  what  he  himself  wants  to  regardless  of  the 
desires  of  others,  if  he  disregards  with  a phenomenal  passivity  all  the 
excitements  of  his  fellow  artists,  all  the  requirements  of  prospective 
clients,  why  is  this  so?  It  is  because  for  so  long  he  had  to  do  what  he 
liad  tf)  do.  Now  he  does  what  he  wants  to  do. 

But  to  return  to  his  youthful  career.  While  working  on  the 
newspajiers  in  Philadelphia,  he  also  went  to  the  Philadelphia  Acad- 
emy, and  so  much  impression  did  the  various  instructors  make  upon 
him  that  today  he  can  hardly  remember  who  taught  there  when  he  was 

<3  18  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


a pupil.  Yes,  Anschutz  did  teach  there.  But  Glackens  was  not  a 
steady  pupil.  He  was  a working  newspaper  reporter,  and  so  he  could 
not  go  to  school  more  than  occasionally.  He  went  to  school,  roughly, 
when  he  wasn’t  working. 

In  those  days  he  shared  a studio  with  Robert  Henri.  Henri 
taught  in  an  art  school  in  the  mornings  and  Glackens  worked  in  the 
afternoons.  The  arrangement  was  perfect. 

Glackens  was  a member  of  the  Philadelphia  group  of  which  Henri, 
Luks,  Sloan,  and  Shinn  were  other  members.  He  always  wanted  to 
be  a painter,  but  he  had  a homely  practical  training  in  illustrating, 
and  he  became  the  leader  of  the  American  illustrators.  Years  ago  I 
remember  Albert  Sterner’s  speaking  of  the  complaints  that  used  to 
come  to  McClure  s Magazine  because  Glacken’s  illustrations  were 
not  sweet  enough.  They  were  too  real,  too  original,  too  fresh  and 
amusing  to  appeal  to  a public  saturated  with  false  illustration. 

Like  every  artist  of  the  day  Glackens  eventually  found  his  way  to 
Paris,  where  the  early  painting  in  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  was  done. 
This  hints  much  more  of  Manet  than  Renoir,  his  later  enthusiasm. 
But  before  he  found  need  of  a rich  palette  akin  to  Renoir’s  to  express 
his  pure  delight  in  color,  Glackens  painted  such  darker  simpler  can- 
vases, simpler  from  a color  point  of  view,  as  the  early  Summer  House. 
Then  there  is  the  party  at  Mouquin’s,  which  has  its  period  stamped 
on  it. 

But  Glackens’  gift  did  not  flower  fully  until  he  came  into  contact 

<3  19  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


with  the  art  of  Renoir.  He  delighted  in  the  art  of  Renoir  to  such  an 
extent  that  the  uninitiated,  the  unthinking  and  the  prejudiced  have 
called  him  an  imitator  of  Renoir.  The  surest  way  to  see  that  he  is 
not  is  to  hang  up  some  Renoirs  besides  some  Glackens. 

Had  Glackens  been  a cerebralist  he  would  have  covered  up  his 
tracks.  He  would  have  formed  a Renoiresque  style  such  as  we  see  in 
so  many  German  pictures  of  the  day.  But  Glackens  took  Renoir  just 
as  he  took  the  bathers  playing  pranks  on  the  beach,  or  the  flowers  in 
the  fields.  Renoir  for  him  is  part  of  the  beauty  of  the  world.  He 
gladly  acknowledges  his  obligations  to  Renoir.  For  Glackens  doesn’t 
have  to  try  to  be  original. 

Look  for  example  at  the  reproduction  of  the  young  nude  girl  that 
was  in  the  New  Society  exhibition  this  year.  The  form  is  pure 
Glackens.  The  Glackens’  point  of  view  remains  an  entity  that  can 
easily  be  traced  throughout  his  extensive  production  of  drawings, 
pastels  and  paintings.  That  point  of  view  is  uncomplicated  by  the 
problems  of  the  chess  player.  Men  like  Marcel  Duchamp,  for  ex- 
ample, get  their  artistic  pleasure  from  setting  up  intellectual  problems 
for  lliemselves  and  working  them  out.  Instinct  plays  a very  small 
])art  ill  siicli  work.  It  is  almost  purely  intellectual  and  has  a strong 
apjieal  to  the  intellectuals. 

Glackens  plays  at  painting.  There  is  no  tormented,  morbid 
struggle  with  profound  life  facts  disturbing  him.  He  doesn’t  delve 
deeply  into  psychology.  The  color  of  the  world  makes  him  thor- 

<3  20  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


oiighly  happy,  and  to  express  that  happiness  in  color  lias  become  his 
first  and  most  natural  impulse.  He  lives  in  a kind  of  dream  of 
painting,  absorbed,  distrait,  unaware  of  the  problems  that  bother 
more  unhappy  natures. 

His  opinions  of  art  are  clear  and  unjiretentious.  Emotional, 
vague,  mouth-filling,  and  didactic  expressions  bore  him.  And  he 
can’t  be  log-rolled  by  the  crowd.  I imagine  he  thinks  Derain  is  more 
of  an  eesthete  than  a creative  artist,  hut  his  admiration  of  Pascin  is 
undiluted,  and  in  fact  between  the  two  dissimilar  arts  of  Pascin  and 
Glackens  there  is  something  in  common.  Both  are  among  the  best 
illustrators  of  their  day.  Both  go  straight  to  life  for  their  subjects, 
and  are  only  interested  in  their  craft  in  so  far  as  it  will  more  fully 
express  their  direct  apprehension  of  the  world  through  their  eyes. 
And  both  look  out  on  life  with  eyes  that  see  its  humorous  aspects. 
Pascin  is  more  ironic  and  devilish. 

But  Glackens  is  strictly  American.  His  painting  tradition  is 
French,  hut  his  point  of  view  is  American.  His  sense  of  humor  is 
American.  Look  at  the  beach  scenes  herewith  reproduced.  It’s 
hard  to  say  why  exactly  they  appear  so  American,  and  of  course  it  is 
not  merely  the  scene  itself.  The  whole  attitude  is  American.  The 
subject  is  seen  through  American  eyes. 

If  we  were  not  so  timid  about  our  own  ])ai liters,  or  if  Glackens  had 
any  of  the  publicity  sense  that  nearly  all  European  artists  have  found 
necessary  for  salvation,  there  would  not  lie  a museum  in  America 

<3  21  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


which  did  not  have  some  of  his  works.  He  is  one  of  the  gayest,  most 
delightful  and  accomplished  painters  in  the  world  today.  If  he  were 
more  heavy-handed  and  ponderous  there  would  be  much  more  made 
of  our  good  fortune  in  having  such  a painter  in  our  midst. 

In  the  meanwhile  the  important  facts  are  established.  He  him- 
self doesn’t  care  what  people  say  or  think.  The  respect  that  he  has 
won  from  the  artists,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  collectors  have  sought  his 
work — whatever  his  material  success  has  been  or  might  become  does 
not  seem  to  matter.  A vase  of  flowers,  or  any  other  subject  suggest- 
ing full  flowing  color  could  distract  him  in  an  instant  from  all  the 
material  problems  in  the  world.  Painting  is  his  problem.  In  this 
he  is  completely  absorbed.  He  plays,  works,  lives  with  paint.  In 
the  early  days  he  reported  events  for  the  newspapers.  Now  he  re- 
ports whatever  he  sees  that  tickles  his  fancy  and  gives  him  a chance  to 
play  with  color.  Consequently  in  the  end  you  remain  at  a loss  to 
describe  the  charm  of  his  painting.  You  may  try  to  explain  the 
charm  of  such  ^rt,  even  as  people  will  try  to  describe  the  appeal  of  a 
particular  woman.  In  the  end  you  have  to  see  for  yourself. 

Finally  one  asks  why  a painter  whose  color  flows  and  sings  and 
plays,  who  lias  a quite  phenomenal  understanding  of  how  to  use  the 
medium  of  oil  paint,  should  occupy  a position  so  betwixt  and  be- 
tween; and  tlie  only  answer  seems  to  be  that  in  America,  particularly, 
so  much  art,  written,  carved,  or  painted,  is  dedicated,  definitely 
thoiigli  not  necessarily  consciously,  to  a modernistic  or  an  academic 

<3  22  O 


WILLIAM 


GLACKENS 


audience.  And  this,  despite  the  fact  that  it  is  only  inidedicated  work 
that  stands  tlie  test  of  time.  Tlie  moh  rushes  to  one  side  or  tlie 
otlier.  And  it  requires  a rather  sound  aesthetic  constitnlion  for  the 
artist  to  give  no  heed  except  to  liis  own  sweet  will.  If  he  wants  })rizes 
let  him  heware  of  too  much  point  of  view  in  his  work,  and  if  he  wants 
the  intellectuals  to  ajipland,  he  must  wear  his  modernism  on  his 
sleeve,  where  all  can  see  it  with  half  a glance  upward  from  the 
“Wastelands  of  Ulysses,”  to  quote  our  favorite  columnist.  And  yet 
it  is  one  of  the  foolish  little  twists  of  modern  life  that  the  artist  who 
goes  his  own  pleasant  way  rejoicing,  finally  rises  mountains  higher 
than  those  who  are  too  susceptible  to  the  proper  dedication  of  their 
craft. 


<3  23  O 


Reproductions  of  Paintings  by 

WILLIAM  GLACKENS 


Collection  of  iSlr.  Albert  Gallnltn 


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LoUectwn  of  Mr.  Albert  Gallatin 


ERNEST  L A W S 0 N ( Ti  1 1,  o g r a p li  ) 


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PORTRAIT  GROUP 


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